


Fairly Odd Parents: Wanda's Story

by InsanelyMe



Category: Fairly OddParents
Genre: Anime, Arranged Marriages, Canon - Anime, F/M, Fairies, Other, Pixies, anti-cosmo - Freeform, anti-fairies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyMe/pseuds/InsanelyMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an orphanage that's bigger on the inside resides Wanda--just Wanda--along with her sister, Blonda. Wanda is just a teenager, hardly out of her diapers for a fairy, and she's already orphaned, meeting her destined suitor, and hesitantly studying to become a Fairy God Parent. Life, for a fairy of her status, is as normal as she can make it, but chugging along like a speeding train.<br/>A new boy--the outcast of Fairy World--is dropped at the orphanage: Cosmo Cosma. Wanda is reluctant to have anything to do with him and would much rather spend her time with her flawless fiance, Juandissimo Magnifico.<br/>But when Maurice Wingshine, the shy and innocent young orphan, is revealed to be caught up in the web of Fairyworld's most dangerous threat, Wanda has to take all the help she can get. Buckling under the pressure of handling an arranged marriage and trying to understand the concept of true love, Wanda must also discover how to save a friend in a society built on idealized romance, classism, and age-old wars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

"Wanda!" my sister wailed, no doubt flipping her glossy blonde hair over her alabaster shoulder, batting her twinkling blue eyes and puckering her obnoxiously pink lips. It was her way.

"Yes, Blonda?" I said placidly and flashed to her side. I had been upstairs practicing scrying, but...

She gave me a disdained once-over, her eyes painting my body in a coat of self-consciousness. I pushed my shoulders back and raised off the misty ground a few inches. Seemingly satisfied with my squirming, she sniffed and turned to her aqua nails, rubbing a nonexistant smudge off of the middle finger's. 

"Miss wants you to start getting ready," she said vaguely. I rolled my eyes.

"Ready for what?" 

She gave me a look like I had just asked how to do a summoning spell or how to poof from place to place. Her hand flew back to her silk-swathed hip rapidly.

"For your official meeting, no duh! What did you think?" Her eyes glittered with curiosity and something I couldn't place. "Or did you actually forget about your meeting with the Magnifico boy?" 

I shrugged and turned away casually, jutting out my lip and donning an expression of nonchalance. A sheen of colors brushed me as I passed by the sparkling window. "Of course not! It just might have, um..."

"Slipped your mind?" she bit acidicly. She swooped over to meet me and stuck a pointed finger in my face, looking more stern like the Miss. "Don't try that. You won't get out of this and I won't let you. Don't you know what a family like this could do for us, Wanda?" 

I sighed heavily and turned to look at her softly, for as much as my sister annoyed me, she had a point. My 'meeting' was a designated 'date' made by the father of my pre-chosen fiance and the Miss. The Miss is the woman who runs the orphanage, which, unlike your horrible, depressing foster systems, is actually just made up of caretakers for the young ones and older kids who aren't stable enough with their magic to live on their own. We're practically adults, the older kids and I, and most of us will be in the next few months. This meeting wasn't something I was looking forward to—the whole thing made my stomach churn with anxiety—but I knew that my fiance's father, a decendant of noble blood, would keep Blonda and I safe and happy.

How did I get strung to a noble like Juandissimo? Good question.

You see, the forced marriages are not chosen by any being known to man, but rather are inscribed on our minds, drawing us to them naturally. When we are born, we automatically know who we want. When I was old enough to understand the link to the man named Juandissmo, I was thrust into a life of the Miss trying to get me to use magic to improve my looks (all fairies are born with eternal beauty—why change that?) and Blonda was torn between the jealousy of me and whether or not to be happy with her fiance, Rip Studwell, the best known doctor at the fairy world's main hospital.

"Wanda!" Blonda screamed and I startled, looking at her blankly.

"Oh, yes," I said breathily, combing some furious pink hair out of my face. "I'm sorry, Blonda. I'll try. I promise." Her body literally sagged with relief, but she quickly stiffened her back again and looked back at my clothes with a cocked brow.

"Well, I'd hurry up and get ready. You have a lot to do," she sneered and disappeared in a shower of glitter. I huffed and crossed my arms.

"I only had to change my clothes," I grumbled and pulled a long, thin wand from my black boots. It was pretty cliche, to you, I suppose, a black wand with a effervescent star glinting on the end, but rumors had to start somewhere. Our wands have looked this way since the dawn of time.

"Trust me honey, it's not just the clothes!" she yelled from her bedroom as my clothes began to morph and shift. I scowled at the ceiling but didn't respond.

When my clothes were done changing, I was left in the quiet sitting room in a glorious white dress that shimmered and glowed as I sashayed across the cloudy floors, my porcelain ankles wrapped tightly in silver heels that danced with moonlight as I drifted to the ground, grinning at myself. The dress swished around calves and the straps wound tightly over my breasts and sinched over my shoulders. The skin around my  
hips were tugged as the dress stuck to me like glue and then fanned out around me. It wasn't a dress I'd just thought up, but rather an idea that Blonda and the Miss had created and I had done my best to recreate.  
When they were satisfied, I hastily shoved it in my closet and forgot about it for as long as I could. My arms were bare and my body were practically spilling out of it like water out of a cup. I angrily wrestled the thing into the most comfortable position I could muster for it and flew to the bathroom seeking a mirror.

The ever-silent Maurice Wingshine was standing there, in all her brown-eyed, honey-haired glory, humming a meloncholy tune as she stroked her hair with a brush made of ivory and the quills of dove feathers. It was her favorite possession.

"Hey," I chirped, smiling down at her brightly. She turned a pair of saddening chocolate eyes on me (you humans are good for one thing—delicious chocolate) and I felt my entire outlook on the day darken a bit. 

She smiled a tiny bit and pranced out, still not used to floating. 

I shook my head but didn't bother to stare after her. Unused to flying as she may be, she was a natural at poofing from place to place in a blink. She almost never spoke and we therefore hadn't figured out her fiance yet. Maybe he's softspoken, too.

I caressed my cheek with the tip of my wand and applied the scheme of color (not makeup, for we do not layer chemicals and oily products on our face, but rather physically change the color of our skin) that was deemed appropriate for our first meeting. It was all about first impressions, especially around people like this. My eyelids—smoky gray. Lips—pink as a rose. My carnation hair fell in ringlets down my back.

To be honest, I thought, I do looked pretty good.

When I was finished, I shut the door very gently and sat down on the bench in front of the vanity. Trinkets littered the surface. Souveniers from our field trips to earth. There was a worn silver ring with these twinkly little white stones embedded in the surface- what were they called? Diamonds? That sounds right. There was a small toy that looked like a cat, but yellow as the sun with a jagged tail and a more rat-like face. When one of the fairies had picked it up, posing as a human, a small child had walked by with his mother and hollered, "Pikachu!" It was really strange. What's a pikachu? Tubes of lipstick in all colors lay scattered across the surface, even if we didn't need them. Alan Glitterwands said he liked makeup, that it smelled nice. I bet you don't think that, but from a dimension away, makeup is foreign and interesting. Also, there was an unraveling blue scarf, a mechanical device that had once blasted odd music but long since stopped working, and a couple shiny buttons. 

I sat there and stared in the mirror for a long time. I don't know just how long, but I knew it was a while. Every angle, every contour, every plane of my body, I inspected. It was weird, being self-conscious. I'm not, usually, but now... I just felt like I wasn't good enough, and I hated it. Juandissimo Magnifico and his father, Barney Magnifico, descendants of royalty, were practically the highest of the high, other than the actual Fairy World officials. Everybody knew their name; however, nobody knew mine. I didn't know how the dimension would take to me being his bride. The only thing keeping me going is that I knew Juandissimo will feel the same way. He has to. Otherwise, I'm not sure I could handle being looked at so much, being judged, knowing that every person there won't think I'm good enough. I'm just the orphan girl to them. 

How will this go? What will I say? What do I act like? Will he like me? What will he be like? 

I don't know. I've seen pictures of him, I can see visions of him in my head, like a distant memory. It was unsettling, the way I could see him smiling whole-heartedly at me even though I knew he wasn't even looking at me and never really had. I've memorized his glistening white smile, straight-toothed and perfect, the way his light brown cheeks dimple as he does it, the delicate curl of glossy black hair over his forehead—even the way his violet eyes dance with too many things to be said aloud as he stares lovingly at me, his long, thick eyelashes fluttering. He was absolutely gorgeous and utterly flawless. It's not like I felt physically inadequate; whether or not my kind is gifted with this ridiculously objective eternal beauty, I know I'm lovely. There's not an inch of myself I don't like. But now that the day is finally here.... I don't even know what I'm afraid of.

I'm just scared.

A sharp rap on the glistening door shook me from my nervous stupor, and Miss's voice barked, "Ten minutes, Wanda! Then I want you in the living room for an inspection!" I heard the heavy shutter of her wings buzzing away.

Ten minutes? I thought worriedly. That's not enough time. Forever wouldn't be enough time.

I quickly rechecked my appearance, curled my lashes, shimmied my dress around, and smoothed down my hair. When I looked the part of the perfect little doll, I anxiously stepped out of the bathroom. Despite the fact that the house had just seemed silent as death a moment ago, the second I left the washroom, an orchestra of gasps, laughter and jeers assaulted me. 

In the living area stood or floated all the children, adults and tots of the orphanage, crowding me. Sanjii, Elizabeth, Abel, Jocelyn, Maurice and Blonda were all there, some of the younger ones sitting or staring in awe behind them. A rainbow of colors: scarlet, indigo, violet, aquamarine, and—wait. That was a new color. 

Electrifying green.

They all rushed me at once, the Miss at the front of the barrage, her eyes scrunched up and emotional. The Miss was a brusque, thick-boned woman with ruddy cheeks and squinty, brick red eyes. Her hair was like dried human blood and her smile was rarely ever genuine, but I sensed that it was right now. She grabbed me around the arm and spun me like a top, making my hair twirl through the air.

I leaned towards her, putting my lips to her ear, and, consumed by curiosity, I whispered, "Who's the boy in green? Never seen him." She hushed me and began straightening my dress, even if I just had been.

"Don't worry about him. You'll meet him after you meet...Juandissimo!" she growl-hissed. Even she spoke his name with utter excitement. "But if you must know, his name's Cosmo Cosma. His mother's just dropped him off. Crazy bat, babbling on and on about teaching him a lesson, enrolling him in Godparenting courses with 'all the orphan things'--ah, nevermind."

I pursed my lips, taking one last glance at the boy hidden among the shadows. His arms were crossed over a worn green shirt, and I felt his strange, powerful green eyes hold mine. Flecks of gold were dusted around his pupils, and hair the color of freshly-grown grass fell over his pearly face. High, defined cheekbones. Impassive, downset berry lips. One long finger on his lanky being twitched as he frowned at me. I tried not to hold his gaze, but instead turned away and focused on all the compliments and praise and jokes I was hearing. Laugh, smile, reply, and pretend like I'm not falling apart—that's what I have to do.

Now, if I can just keep this up for the rest of the night.


	2. Juandissimo Magnifico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda's meeting with her fiance goes better than she could've imagined.

We took the (rented) carraige, even if we could fly. Miss would take no chances keeping me--but mostly my dress--clean and pristine and perfect. I felt like a princess. No--a queen. I already had my crown, my own unique diadem gifted to me at birth. It was smooth as glass and sparkling clear, bouquets of gentle pink roses twining around the surface and extending stiffly off the edge, their soft green vines coating it. It looked like the crown of Mother Nature to you. It looked like an unkempt rose bush, but I found it beautiful nonetheless. The mother is supposed to make them personally before the birth, but I still notice the small yet busy crown store glaring at me as we trot on by in our lovely white carraige

The ride there was taut with nervousness and expectation. I couldn't really revel in the plush red cushions, feel the silken dance of the scarlet curtains, enjoy the taste of daylight on my lips. The entire ride could have been moments or days or ages and eternities and I would still never relax or feel like everything was going to be alright. I wish my mother was here. I really wish my father would still be alive, to see me smile and twirl like royalty and make me feel like Juandissimo is luckier than any man on earth to be my match. Even Blonda might help, but she's brooding at home, waiting another four months to have her official match's meeting. And I was alone, with Miss glancing at me, nitpicking, worrying, fixing me up with her eyes. Alone. 

After a while, we finally pulled up in front of--a castle. 

It was so many stories high that I had to crane my head back, all the while trying not to ruin my delicate knot of hair. A footman hurriedly, but obviously attempting to do so gracefully, ran to our carraige and opened the door, waving his arm softly through the air towards the mansion's front doors. Two more carefully dressed men stood by its gilded handles, waiting for my approach. They never had to open the doors.

The doors burst open from inside, a compact, dark-haired man tore through the doorway, smiling a smile that nearly tore his face in half. He had a thick, square jaw, dark lips, a skin tanner than I had ever seen and eyes like pools of water: Barney Magnifico. He laughed goodheartedly over rows of glimmering white teeth, his lips so dark they were almost red. His eyes, clear and light and delicate, were so unlike Juandissimo's that they almost came as a shock. I tried to smile back at him the way Miss had instructed me to, tried to avoid the glaringly beautiful architecture, gilt and white marble substance, shimmering with the remnants left behind after fairy magic. It must have taken a great deal of strength to build this.

"Wanda!" he boomed, throwing a pair of muscular, caramel-skinned arms in the air towards me. I bit my lip, trying to keep from giggling--didn't want to look like a little dimwit--and grabbed the folds of my dress. With a grace practice over and again, I curtsied.

"Pleased," I cooed simply, upholding a rather stoic expression as I rose up again. It made me feel ages older. Noble-blooded.

"Oh, don't bother with formalities, dear!" His voice echoed around me, powerful and influencing, making me want to pick up my skirts and dance. Before I could protest (although I believe Miss would protest to my protesting), he threw his arms around me and pulled me into a tight, warm embrace. I started and awkwardly began to raise my arms to hug him back. What a strange man.

"Well, I, uh--" I stuttered.

"Please, dear, come in, come in!" he pleaded, ushering me towards the door. His smile was amiable and kind and something I hoped he had passed on to my fiance.

Desperately, as a thought hit me, I craned my head around to spot Miss standing disapprovingly by the carraige. Her mucky hair fell in unsure strands, betraying her carefully curled bun. She glowered at me, but I knew she was only worried. I shook my head minutely, and she nodded, grabbed the carraige door, and climbed inside. By the time the doors closed behind me as I stared desperately after them, the carraige was   
gone.

When I turned my head back to the grande hall, an ornately crafted, lengthy hall with an arched ceiling, white moldings in intricate designs, golden, shiny walls spun with fragile rose curls, and spacious, white tile floors. It was absolutely breathtaking. I wanted to run my hand along the walls and feel their silky touch mingle with mine, twirl over the frozen, immaculate floors just to sense their icy touch on my soles. A luminescent glow filtered in through windows over the marvelous door, brushing me with what should be heat, but instead like cold anticipation. 

We veered off to the right, following a long series of hallways, filled with pictures that winked and smiled, pretty women and regal men, eyes that followed me, made me twitch. The halls got more and more plain as we went on, but were far better than anything I'd ever seen in the lower part of Fairy World. My part. Everything was fascinating.

Finally, we arrived at one tall, fine brown door with brass knobs and heavy, aging grooves. As Barney touched the knob again, the door breathed with life, and glistened with polish like it was freshly made once again. He didn't even noticed, but rather just threw the door open and revealed the inside of the mysterious room: a study. It was the single most brilliant room I ever did lay eyes on.

The walls were red--not like blood or fire, but like warm days and loving feelings--and there were dozens of worn, wooden shelves lined with unraveling old books and crisp, colorful new ones. A fire licked the edges of the hearth. A woven, human-made looking rug covered a third of the floor, laced with heated colors and a snug fabric. All of it screamed comfort and relaxation and happiness--and wealth.

Although, what was difficult for me to tear my gaze away from was the shadowy form in front of the hearth, cast in darkness by the crackling flames, tall, broad, and a few inches off the ground. When the edges of the doors hit the walls with a crack! the figure turned, and I could begin to see the features of him. A straight nose, great smile, wide eyes and impossibly white teeth--beautiful, even for a fairy. Just like I'd thought. 

As he stepped out of the dark and into the soft glow in the center of the room, he was finally, utterly visible, and it made my heart stop. After all these years, all these wonders and questions and curiosities, I neer thought meeting him would be so... monumental. My entire body exploded with light, it felt like, and every fiber of me was intertwined with this insane but completely understandable need to be near him, with him. I zipped off the ground and twirled in a circle, laughing like mad, smiling so hard I thought it would break my face in half, my wand spraying a fine arc of sparks around me. Manners were a distant, forgotten thought. Juandissimo obviously felt the same, for he flew to me, as if he couldn't get here fast enough, and gathered me in his arms. I reveled in the feel of his unbreakable arms clutching me to him, like they would never let me go, and I didn't want him to. His clothes were soft as a lazy breeze on a calm day. He smelled sweet and floral, like a meadow and beautiful things. I loved it. I loved it, I loved it, I loved him.

"Wanda," he murmured euphorically, and I pulled back to look in his gorgeous purple eyes. They were filled with unrequited love and adoration. It made me feel perfect and whole to know he felt the same way about me. I couldn't even describe what I was feeling, like my fluttering little hummingbird heart might burst, like the world might explode from all I was experiencing.

A gruff noise shot out behind me, startling us both, apparently, by the way Juandissimo--oh, Juandissimo!--jumped and his head snapped to the side, It looked like something in his eyes broke, and I felt it too. My heart slowed again, or at least, slowed to its original sprinting pace. I slowly began drifting down again, like a feather in the wind, feeling sort of numb. I could still feel a thrumming beat of love pulsing in my veins, but it no longer consumed me. I looked to the left, where Barney Magnifico was sitting in an armchair, smirking as if he knew a secret.

"Well, I had almost forgotten what a first reunion look like," he said teasingly, sipping at an exotic blue drink in his hand. My eyelashes flicked up and down, and I suddenly began to remember things.   
Miss said be soft spoken. Don't be loud. Don't be unusual. Don't be energetic and bubbly. Keep your place. Be polite--and above all, don't. Show. Excessive affection. Towards. Juandissimo.

Oops.

I cleared my throat and began to glide backwards, smoothing my hair down and no doubt looking like a right mess. As I was about to return to Barney's side, Juandissimo grabbed my hand, dark tan against ivory, and spun me back to him, laughing. It reminded me of sunshine. I was thrust back in front of him as he grinned down at me like I had just completed his entire life, though he has no doubt fulfilled mine. The silky texture of his loose shirt felt perfect between my fingers, his smooth, brown chest visible between the two top unbuttoned sections. As my foot tipped forward and my toes brushed his, I realized he was barefoot. How unusual. But on him, it worked. Everything about him was magnificent, and he had only said one word to me: my name.

"Oh, Wanda, it is so wonderful to finally see you!" he told me, his words curled around what you might think was a--what was it? A Spanish accent. But this, this was musical, softer, with a certain flavor of his voice that would make anybody love him in a second, but I didn't need his voice to love him immediately.

I realized he was looking at me expectantly, and that I hadn't said a word to him yet. I must seem like a mute. I wonder if I shaped up to his expectations, but by the look on his face, it gave me a feel that I had a good chance at meeting his standards.

"Well," I giggled, putting a dainty hand to my mouth. "I suppose this is 'hello'." 

Stupid, I thought. I sound like an idiot.

But the two men just boomed with accented laughter, throwing their heads back, and Juandissimo pulled me closer as if he just had to be touching me at all times, his fingers skating over my arms, his legs almost flush with mine, his chest nearly pressed to me. It made my skin feel like it was burning.

"Why don't you go show her around, Juandie?" his father guffawed, and his smile faltered briefly. It, seemingly, was not a nickname he appreciated, but he took it nonetheless.

"Of course, Father," he replied crisply and turned two gleaming eyes to me. Beautiful. "Wanda, if you'll come with me."

I nodded and tucked my arm into his, enjoying his presence, but sort of--hollow. As if not being totally entwined with him left me with a feeling of emptiness. I would've liked to be touching every part of him, be enveloped by him. It was absolutely shameful.

We ventured down the same hallway I had just been through, but all of its features dimmed in comparison to Juandissimo. His ebony hair spilled over his ears and brushed his neck, scruffy but well-kept, and his angular cheeks were constantly twitching with his exuberant grin. The way his pink lips twisted was just heavenly. I couldn't rip my eyes away from him for a singular moment. We turned down a way I hadn't been through, and the second we reached a magnificent set of gleaming marble stairs, he dropped my arm and picked me up instead. Perhaps he had been waiting to get far away enough from his father. Perhaps he had 'manner's as I did, but Barney didn't exactly seem like the type who practiced that. He had picked me up in a hug too. Silly man.

"I can't even express how over-joyed I am to see you," he breathed in my ear as I wound my arms happily around his neck. He pressed his lips hard against my shoulder; it scorched. After a long, but still too short, span of time, he pulled back and looked at me, his eyes dragging over every surface of my body like a caress. "You're everything I ever dreamed you would be--it--it's--"

I smiled and snickered delightedly, cutting him off, and said, "I know! I can't believe it!"

"Father said that it would be an irresistable feeling, but he didn't warn me for--this!" He crushed me to him again, moaning, his arms a stony band around me. I curled my fingers into his hair, and it was just as fine as it looked, soft and smooth and wonderful.

Abruptly, with what required excessive efforts from both of us, he pulled away and grasped my hands desperately. That hollow feeling bit at me again, sweeping through me like a harsh gust of wind. Like ugly cravings.

"Come," he gasped. "Father will no doubt send somebody after us to check and make sure we haven't hidden orselves away." With a flirtatious wink, we were dashing up the stairs.

The first room we came upon was his father's bedroom, the first door on the left, which we dutifully stood outside of, yet childishly peeked inside. There was a large, white sleigh of a bed, with puffy blankets and dark, polished boudoirs and shelves, silly little knicknacks and figurines of fairies that were no doubt from the human realm. There were the "woodland fairies", tiny things with leaves and flower petals for clothing, dark hair and innocent smiles; the legends and myth type, Unseelie and Seelie I had once heard it, two creatures with their arms linked together, dark eyes, mischievous smirks, and colorful skin stretched over their pointed features; there was even the things that resembled us most, story book characters, with pale, round features, glittering wings, and an overall air of wistful thinking and wishes. The room was pretty, in a way, but simple.

Juandissimo led me past all sorts of things with a mild disinterest despite my blatant fascination--a kitchen, a parlor with plush couches and glorious paintings and crystal-like side tables, a ridiculously large bathroom that emanated a delicious, soft scent with hues of blue all around, two sinks and a large bath-- and his tone seemed to have been crept upon with a hint of boredom, but the second he would look at me, it would swell and rise with glee.

Finally, after who-knows-how-long, we approached the end of the hall, where a large, white door stood. I noticed his smile grow as he pushed the door in by its brass knob and swept his arm towards the massive interior that lie within. It was absolutely gorgeous.

"Welcome to," he said softly, "our room." 

Gusts of violet flew over the walls, brushed with breaths of fuschia, streaked with sunrise rose. The ceiling arched over us with bands of gold crowning the walls. I looked down at the floor and was greeted with the image of myself, staring up at me with wonder, standing perfectly still amongst an ocean of darkness. It took me a moment, but then I realized that the floor was pure obsidian, glassy, cool, mirror-like. It was like a calm lake at the darkest of the night.

"Oh," I breathed, running my finger tips along the beautiful walls, clicking softly on my towering heels farther into the room. A large, circular violet bed with hot pink stitching occupied the better part of the far right corner, elevated on a raised, stony platform with waves of graceful gossamer curtains falling over its sides that shimmered and shone as we walked nearer. There were no windows, but shelves upon shelves of adorable, small trinkets lined the walls, books in some foreign, blocky language curling up their spines, some angular and cutting, some fine and delicate. Human languages. Unlike the ones from the study, these   
were books from the mortal world. 

I looked to Juandissimo and asked excitedly, "Human books? You can read them?" Proudly, he smiled.

"Oh, yes--well, most of them. I plan to become a Godparent--which you know, probably," he said with a wink, "and so I took it upon myself to study their most common languages. I found them absolutely interesting. Chinese," he pointed to the sharply written, almost scrawled, language, "French," next was the swirling, loopy writing that flowed delicately across the spine, "and here's English." This one was the blocky one, perfectly formed, standing white against the darkness of the cover, even though some of the other books that were obviously in the same language were written in different handwritings, all individual and beautiful. I read, with my spotty English, the cover of one.

"D-Dracula?" I stuttered, blushing, and layed my hand on the cover. He laughed softly, and for a moment I thought I had gotten it wrong, but he didn't correct me.

"Yes," he responded. "I've had a rather large fascination with vampires and such."

"What are they?" I questioned, twitching in the air slightly as I bounced with childlike anticipation. He grinned at me, amused.

"They are undead creatures--"

"Undead?" How can something be undead? I thought.

"Mmhmm. There are several legends about vampires." Juandissimo's voice took on a secretive, raspy tone, inlaid with excitement and animation. "With one story, you see, what happens is one vampire--who has no heart beat," he put his hand gently over my chest, covering my heart, the only similarity that I have truly found between logical creatures, and look warmly into my eyes, "who has no warmth--bites a human, and the venom that comes from their sharp teeth turns that human into a vampire. But that is only if they let the human go."

"Why wouldn't they..?"

"Something key about vampires, the one aspect they all share, is their bloodlust. They all drink blood," he whispered ominously, and I gasped.

"Blood?" I repeated, shocked. "Then--then they would kill the human, just to feed?" Juandissimo nodded, hardly a shred of remorse or pity in his face, but then again, why should he feel such? They were only myths.

Although to humans, so are we.

"A rather brutal, fearsome creature, but I find them riveting," he drifted off absentmindedly, pushing the book back amongst the stack of others. I was frightened by such a gruesome legend, but, like he had said, it was rather compelling.

"Well, what are some of the other stories?" I said, my interest piqued. Juandissimo looked at me curiously and chuckled.

"I'll tell you about them sometime." He looked towards the door as if he could sense the fading time through it. "I'm afraid we've been gone into the residence wing for far too long. Father will be sending someone after us." Smiling lazily, he looked back to me, his eyes twinkling. "Come. We must be going."

Once more he grabbed my hand, and I eagerly let him, enjoying the brush of his skin on mine as we walked. I don't know what it was, but there was something human about this place that made me want to walk instead of float, to drift down and lay in Juandissimo's arms for days. We zipped past the kitchen and bathroom, closets and his father's bedroom--and just his father. His mother had left him for a human, not that anybody else knew. In his resume of sorts, it had had Attatched to mortal realm currently stamped on the case of his mother, and I, the only one with eyes to view it, had known exactly what it meant. It was a common, careful, secretive expression among us fairies.

Anyway, we eventually made it back to the study via the long expense of halls and mazes, my head spinning with their lengths, and we took a quick moment to compose ourselves before raising off the floor and properly drifting back into the study. Barney Magnifico hadn't yet moved, but there was a book in his hands with the crossing, whimsical runes of the fairies in it, and his drink was empty and sitting on the table.   
He snapped his fingers and the drink was full again.

"Father," Juandissimo said curtly as we reentered the study. Barney looked up from his book, startled, as if surprised he hadn't had a servent come back saying they had found us canoodling in a corner.

"Ah, back, finally!" he called, setting his book down on the side table and throwing an arm in the air. His eyes glittered, beguiled. "Did you like what you saw, Wanda?"

I smiled, delighted, and dipped my head low in a nod. "Yes! It's absolutely wonderful here." Barney laughed, and his son smiled something crooked at me, hooking his arm around my waist.

"Well, I'm glad you liked it." He gazed out the open window, where the sky was streaked with bloodred bursts of light and orange and pink whorls as the sun set down past the mountainous clouds and sky.   
"Although, I'm afraid it is time you must be going." He looked back. "But we should do this again soon! It was nice to finally meet you."

"Oh, I'd love that," I agreed exuberantly, feeling childish and adoring it.

I smoothed down my hair shyly, cutting off my immature voice at once. The entire room was thrumming with energy and the pulsing, hissing light of the fire. A ballet of wind danced through the room, curling around my ankles and sweeping up the hem of my dress in a loving embrace. There was the steady groan of wheels winding across the stone ground outside. The carraige had arrived once more, the Miss no doubt painstakingly awaiting my return and my every detail of the night.

"And here we are," Barney mumbled, glancing at the window again.

"Wanda," Juandissimo said smoothly, turning back to me with a short nod, "I'll take you back to the entrance."

"Okay," I breathed. We walked towards the doors, but just before we reached them, Barney grabbed my hand, miraculously right behind me. I turned back, startled.

"Until we see each other again," he said deeply and bent over my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm, his blue, blue, blue eyes locked with mine. They glittered with something that, perhaps, I hadn't seen before.

"Of course," I sniffed, lowering towards the ground a few inches in resemblance of a curtsie or a bow. Barney straightened again, placing my hand back at my side gently, and as Juandissimo and I reluctantly walked past the halls and paintings and moldings and beauty, I had the feeling that Barney was still standing there, smiling with implications. Strange.

* * * * *

"So, what happened?" Miss demanded impatiently, just moments after Juandissimo had kissed her hand, detatched, but politely, and she had blushed her way back in to the carraige. She still had one slender white hand pressed to her flushed cheek, her chocolate-brown eyes shining.

"Well, after Barney gathered me up, we went to the study where Juandissimo was--" I stumbled.

"Yes, yes, dear?" I pinned her with a glare and a bitter scowl that might even match hers. After Juandissimo had left me riding off with only a chaste kiss to my cheek to show for it, Miss watching me the whole time,   
I had been left feeling utterly empty and unfulfilled, lonely, like a desolate stretch of barren land. The Miss recoiled a bit, shocked, but quickly became consumed by curiosity again and her expression positively pestered me for answers.

"And we, er, greeted each other." I cleared my throat carefully and avoided her suspicious frown. Simply greeting each other was quite the understatement for Juandissimo and I. "We talked a little. Juandissimo gave me a tour of the mansion, and I saw what our bedroom would be--" I blushed at the term our bedroom "--and then we returned to the study, chatted, and I left. Easy as breathing."

Okay, now that was the understatement--definitely.

Miss, obviously, was not sated. She shook her head minutely, eyes darting about my face, searching for any sign that I had hidden something from her, but I contained my expression in a facade of the utmost innocence. After a few agonizing beats, she clenched her jaw and turned to glance out the windows, pushing the drapes just enough to look out but hide her face from those waiting around after dark. The night was slowly creeping in.

"So, there were no problems then, I presume?" she said softly, and I could just barely hear the melody of the voice she used to use, before her husband, Oliver Goldenhart, finally reached the end of his old age. He was three hundred thousand, seven hundred fourty two and an old friend of mine, and I never saw Miss's hair streaked with silver until the second we heard of his death. Sometimes, I wish he was alive--not for   
me, but doesn't everyone deserve to be happy?

"No," I whispered, my fingers aching with the urge to poof back to Juandissimo's house and feel his skin under them, run them through his hair. It was maddening.

"Good!" she barked, and I couldn't hear her sweet, cooing voice anymore. Quicker than a wish, it was gone, and she avoided my eyes as she closed the drapes and leaned back against the pillows. Sometimes, as she saw us all paired off and shipped to school or marraiges, I swear I wasn't the only one thinking about him.

* * * * *

At home, I was attacked by a barrage of young children ("Is he cute? Romantic? Cute?"), the lopsided, distracted grins of the older kids, and the furious demands of Blonda ("Is he rich? Cute? Rich?"). I accepted their excitement and glee, but hurried as much as I could to rush upstairs to flash upstairs to my room. In all honesty, I was worn to pieces.

I crept to my closet, pulling out my white-as-moonlight nightgown, setting it on my soft, silver duvet and pulling my hair down from its intricate twist and combing through it with my fingers. It felt fantastic to simply flop down on the cover, fold my wings back between my shoulder blades, and toss my crown on the bookshelf. I swung my wand around towards my heels and they popped off, falling to the floor with a clatter. I didn't move an inch for a while, but rather just sat there and mulled the day over. Besides my excessive display of emotion, nothing had really seemed wrong with my first meeting. The time had disappeared. I had only known Juandissimo for two hours and yet I wanted to curl up with him and just... I felt like a freak. And it was good. A slap-happy, loving freak.

I smiled from ear to ear, a gurgle of laughter foaming out of my mouth, my chest shaking. Instantaneously, I hopped out of the bed, legs flailing, feet never touching the ground, grinning, my wings bursting forth and humming with power as they kept me in the air. Nothing could touch me; I was unbreakable, immovable, unstoppable. 

And then:

"As enticing as dancing around half-dressed is, you should probably shut the door," teased a voice behind me and, hair whipping across my cheeks and partially unzipped dress arcing around my legs, I turned to face the shadow leaning against the open door, something hooked around his finger. The shadow was green as thriving ivy. 

It was Cosmo Cosma.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Cosmo meet for the first time--and it doesn't go well.

"What the sparks!" I screamed sank back against the wall, yanking my zipper up. Cosmo laughed, his teeth pulling out past his lips. 

"Oh, don't stop for me," he said, spinning the object on his finger. It was a slash of ribbon I'd had tied up in my hair earlier. I must have dropped it downstairs.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, scowling furiously. I was indignated and overall just embarrassed. Who did he think he was, sneaking into my room like a little creep--overlooking the fact that I had left the door open. Shaking my head, I threw out my hand expectantly. "Give that back!"

He shrugged, skulking into the room like a pleased cat, his eyes dragging over the walls and trinkets and my belongings like an oily rag. He was oily. I didn't really know him--at all--but I knew that the second he first spoke. His vibrant, grass-colored hair was swept back in a disorganized slick, not greasy, but so casual and lazy, unlike the fairies' usual pristine, colorful hair. It was so... human. Taunting green eyes took in my stern yet tiny form with mild amusement. The look on his face only made me angrier. Slowly, mockingly, he dropped the ribbon into my hand, placing his smirking face ever so close to mine. I could feel his warm breath on my face; it smelled of sugar and berries, unlike Juandissimo's light scent, like that delicious earth flavor, vanilla. I wanted to cringe at the way he shined his glossy teeth in my eyes.

"There you go," he whispered faux-kindly. I grimaced. 

"When I first saw you," I muttered back, "this wasn't how I imagined meeting you would go." His grin nearly broke his face as he pressed a flattered hand to his chest, his face etched with playfulness and hidden meanings. 

"How sweet! I feel exalted by your serious time spent thinking of me!" My mouth dropped, really for two reasons, one being that that hadn't been what I meant at all, and the other that he actually had an inkling of what 'exalted' meant.

"What--I--you know that is not what I was saying." I stuck an accusatory pointed finger in his face, and he cocked a brow, looking at me doubtfully. Put off, he pushed my hand out of his face. "I just naturally don't think of meeting people by finding them lingering around my room when I'm undressing."

"Well," he laughed snidely, "maybe you should shut the door, doll." Haphazardly, he picked himself off the floor with a powerful push of his wings and crashed down onto my bed. He snuggled his face into my pillow--my favorite pillow. "Ooh, comfy." I gaped, jaw opening and closing in shock.

"Get off my bed you creep!" I cried, picking up a piece of clothing off the door of my closet and throwing it at his head. His body tensed, startled by my pure aversion to him (and my gall as to chuck things at him).

"But I'm so cozy," he complained, and I moaned.

One of his eyes popped open as his fingers snatched up the thing I'd thrown at him: my nightshirt. I wasn't usually self-conscious about what I wore, but when my lacy golden shirt was slinking around his long white fingers, I began to feel so. With purposeful, provoking gusto, he pressed it to his nose and took a long drag off its aroma. It made my throat thicken with disgust.

"Smells like strawberries," he murmured, almost to himself, and winked at me, tossing the shirt back onto the handle of the door. I scoffed. 

"Who do you think you are?" I flipped my hair over my shoulder, my curiosity rising along with my abhorrence. This Cosma boy was utterly enfuriating. "And how do you even know what strawberries smell like? We haven't taken a trip to the mortal realm since before you came." He gave me a sharp glance, smugness replaced by irritation.

"I haven't always been alone. I had parents who took me," he snapped.

Once more, he closed his eyes and put an arm behind his head, burrowing into my bed with a certain homeyness. I wanted to roll my eyes with how easily he had attained a liking to my bedroom, but I felt a certain, slight guiltiness with how I had automatically assumed he had been left behind to wander Fairyworld by his lonesome. I swallowed. Ran my hand through my hair. Cosmo smiled, priggish. 

"And now you're uncomfortable. How cute." He gave a short, pompous shot of laughter. "Don't bother apologizing. We all got dumped here by no fault of our own." I glowered at him, defensiveness rising in me like a fountain.

"I didn't get 'dumped'. I got left behind," I hissed heatedly.

I crossed my arms, hurt, and slammed back down on the edge of my bed, careful not to touch any surface of his body with any surface of mine. I noticed, briefly, what he was wearing: long, frumpy black pants and and skin-tight gray shirt. His feet were bare. Interested, one eyes popped open on his planes-and-angels face, and his mouth quirked.

"Hmm." My brows knit, stumped. What was that supposed to mean? 'Hmm'? I decided not to pursue the question.

Sighing heavily, I asked, "Will you get out of my bed now? I've had kind of a long day." He laughed again.

"What? Your perfect match turn out not-so-fantastic, doll?" I huffed and clenched my fists, eyes narrowing. Sensing my horrid attitude, he sat back up abruptly, his face a few inches from mine. I was startled by his complacent closeness. My discomfort made him grin in a lopsided way.

"Stop calling me 'doll''." I pursed my lips and tossed my head. "And actually, he absolutely was perfect." He unsettled me by giving a snort of laughter and leaning back against the headboard, faithlessness crossing his eyes. 

"'Perfect'," he chuckled. My eyebrows shot into my hair, confounded.

"And what do you have to say about, lurker? You don't even know him." 

There was something wondrous about the way he looked at me then, bemused and sort of in awe at my feelings for the Spanish fairy. I could practically feel my face twisting with pride for my new-found fiance. I had been slightly wary of being forced into a couple before, but after meeting him, I would gladly defend him, fight for him, be there for him. That's what mates do. By the looks of it, Cosma was alone, loveless and parentless. Supposedly, his parents left him here. How morbid, but by no sense was it my problem or responsibility to take on his judging for having a life.

"Right," he said dubiously, and then, like a absent-minded idea, he mumbled, "That mating thing sure is weird." I groaned and smacked a face to my palm. Would he ever leave? He had to have been up for ages now. What if the others heard he'd been laying around in my room, stalking in and quietly closing the door behind him? Oh, the rumors...

I don't know what it was about Cosmo, but he had a personality that was equal parts totally annoying and intriguing. Suddenly, I wanted to know more about him, who he was, what he did in his spare time, how he'd ended up here. That frustrated me even more. As if sensing my captivated mood, he twitched his brow at me. I couldn't possibly have looked as enthralled as I felt.

"Don't you have a partner? Your obviously older than me. You should have met her by now," I guessed flatly. His face seemed electrocuted by sudden grief, but in a moment, he had placid impassivity coating his face. 

"She, er..." he stumbled, and, though I hadn't known him long, I was shocked by his loss of words. Finally, he found his voice and sense of rhythm. "She died at birth. Nothing I could have done about it. No match."

I leaned back, stunned. Still-births were rare, especially among us magical creatures. Usually, we would would just poof them out with a complex spell, but if even the slightest mistake was made in weaving said enchantment, things could go wrong. The child could get stuck. It could have vital pieces of its body left behind--but as I said, it was absoluely appalling to hear of or see. That's why doctors are so well-trained and practiced. Where deaths of a baby were few and far between, doctors were almost so much so.

"You're uncomfortable again," he warned, and I must have been biting my lip again or had it plain on my face. I tend to lose control of emotions when it comesdown to such dismaying information as this. I struggled to compose myself as he had, and this seemed to amuse him.

"Do you sleep?" I questioned snarkily. "Because I do, and right now..." His eyes spun in their sockets, his lips tightening against another smile.

"Alright, alright," he said compromisingly, putting his hands out and picking himself up off the bed with slight strain. He lifted off the covers, his wings fluttering. As he ran a hand through his hair, I finally noticed his crown. I hadn't been looking for them lately, what with how common they were. I don't even remember what Juandissimo's looked like.

It was smooth and round, golden as the sun is bright, with gentle half-curves, half-spikes around its rim, almost like the crown of royalty. Diamonds glittered as he turned in the light cast by my harmless, room-temperature flame that writhed in its glass lamp. It cast soft white light along his face and painted shadows in the contours in-between. Somehow, the simplicity of it made it nearly breathtaking. Faintly, there might have been silver laced along its base, like snakes of cloud drifting along the wind. I shook my head, pulling myself to look back at his expectant face. I wonder what he was waiting for.

"Well, good night," I implied, putting my hands sternly at my hips. This seemed funny to him.

"You," he said strongly, "are very strange, indeed."

And then he left. Just disappeared--which I guess was normal, but still. It didn't make me feel better seeing that he would just poof into and out of my room at will. I shivered, and then continued to change into my nightgown, being absolutely sure that the door was closed.

And locked.

More than I could say, I knew in that very second that I didn't like him. Not a shred.


	4. Maurice Wingshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda learns a frightening piece of information from Maurice after gossiping to the other kids about her fiance.

I woke feeling hollow, empty, even more tired than I had been last night when I fell into my bed. There was a soreness all over, and the pit of my stomach burned. I craved to be... I don't know. I wanted something.  
My muscles ached (probably from that tight dress) and it took tremendous strength to simply open my eyes and look at the light filtering through the draperies on the window. It was already far into the morning, an uncharacteristically late time for me to be waking up. I scowled, which was extremely taxing, and closed my eyes anyway.

Life could wait. I was tired.

"Wanda, dearie," Blonda trilled teasingly. I tried to roll my eyes but found it took too much strength. Rather, I just slammed my eyes close and buried my face in my pillow.

Maybe I was hungry. That might explain the burning need in the pit of my stomach.

There was a commotion outside and a loud beating on the door. My eyes snapped open again as the door flew open with a crack. "Wanda! Holy sparks, it's midday!" 

It was the Miss.

"What?" I wailed, flipping out of my bed on a surge of energy. The second I was upright, the energy left. I sagged against the wall, rubbing the tired from my eyes. "I've never--" I paused to yawn "--slept that long."

"Well," said Miss, "you did, and you shouldn't have, so get your rosy cheeks downstairs and get some breakfast! No classes today doesn't mean you can just laze around!" I rolled my eyes at blonda as Miss cast a disdainful look around my room, disorganized and colorful as it was. 

"Yes, Miss, I'll be right down." Maybe.

With a disgruntled scowl, she disappeared, no doubt to bark at some other poor young thing; however, Blonda remained standing there, smirking and curling her fingers in her face to get a better view of her pristine fingernails. There was something menacing in the way she pushed off the doorframe and stalked towards me with that smile and those sharp blue eyes.

"What d'you want, Blonda?" I asked, trying to keep the snappiness out of my voice. I'd rather not fight with her so early in the morning--well, so early in my morning.

She put her smooth white hands back at her side and tilted her head casually, droning, "Oh, nothing... I just happen to know everything about that new boy down there."

She giggled excitedly. I knew her game immediately. If Blonda did know everything about the "new boy", then she'd know he was single, and she found fun in teasing and toying with the lonely boys. I've seen it happen twice, maybe three times. And here was fresh meat for the taking, but I had a feeling he wasn't the kind to be tricked, especially by the brainless likes of Blonda. She didn't like being rejected--something I'm sure (not that I know why I'm sure) Cosmo would do. He didn't seem her type, and there was a far, miniscule chance I could throw her off his trail. Like, infintesimally small chance.

"Oh, you mean Cosmo Cosma?" I replied finally, innocently. Her smile faltered. She liked to be the only one who knew something juicy, and from what I knew of his reputation, Cosmo had some secrest to spare.

He destroyed Pompeii in the mortal realm soon after his birth with a wave of his wand. Set off a volcano and whoosh--gone. Anyone who knows the legend of Atlantis knows that it sank to the darkest depths of the ocean (I'm yet to meet a mermaid), and guess who sent it capsizing?

Cosmo Cosma. 

Jorgen von Strangle tried to hide him, but every citizen of Fairyworld knows at least a little of his story. I guess that's just how it goes when you really don't have anyone to protect you--no parents, match, friends. 

"Er, yes, the green-haired boy," Blonda said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes. "How do you know him?' I shrugged.

"He's Cosmo Cosma. Who doesn't know him, at least a bit?" This seemed sufficient to her, though she kept a wary eye on my as she turned to my vanity, checking her teeth in the glass and fiddling with the assortment of unusual items I'd obtained over the years. I tried to ignore the irritation I felt at her touching my things.

"I supposed you're right. Anywho, I was talking with him this morning at the breakfast table, and he told me all about his trips to the 'Americas' and 'France'--which is, like, the country of love or something-- and 'China'. He said he even went to 'Guam'." 

"What's a "Guam"?" 

She shook her head. "I have no clue, but it sounds cool. Cosmo said it was bad though, but I suppose most of those human-ridden disease buckets would be bad." And obviously, she was never really a fan of the other realms. She turned back to me with an assessing, thoughtful expression on her face. In a moment, it changed back to superficial and bubbly.

"C'mon," she burst. "You need to eat. You're getting all twiggy."

"Um, okay?"

We popped down to the breakfast table where--you guessed it--the green-eyed devil himself sat with the few girls between childhood and adulthood smiling at him. They weren't flirting or toying, but they were certainly charmed. How? I had no clue. From what I could tell, he was utterly irritating. Even proper, well-raised, matched girls were falling under his games.

"Wanda, doll!" he cried, throwing his arms out as if for a hug. He flew from his seat--literally.

And he stood there as I walked past him to the fridge. After a moment, he dropped his arms and turned to the other girls, shrugging. They nearly gasped, I swear, from how easily I'd just brushed him off. Even Blonda seemed shocked, but then again, why wouldn't they be? Why would I know Cosmo when he just got here yesterday, and I supposedly hadn't met him yet? Well, they'll never know.

I think I woke up more tired than when I went to sleep. For some reason, I felt like I could eat half the realm and still have room for dessert, and I would poof up an entire buffet if I could. Too bad fairies can't create new things: we can only take them from another place, or reassemble them. Nothing can truly be created or destroyed; it was there to begin with, and it will be there till the end. Ah, the earliest school lesson. Silly old things.

Anyway, I grabbed the latest imports from the mortal realm. When fairies visit earth and find foods that they like, they take some up here and create our own little farm that can plant and harvest itself, and then they sell it to the populace. It's a very interesting type of business, but with the weird time change between our worlds (a year to you can sometimes be decades to us, or it can be seconds) the humans have always developed something new by the time we get there. There are spells that can screw with the time difference, but they're long and complicated.

When I plopped down at the table with an apple, some jiggly, creamy substance called "yogurt", and a slice of bread, the five other people sitting there went silent for a moment, but then remembered that while Cosmo was charming (not), I had just met my match. This must have occured to them all at the same time, for they all started speaking at once.

"So, Wanda--" from Cindy Goldheart.

"How was Juandissimo--" out of Georgia Lillians.

"I heard his father's the richest fairy under Jorgen--" and this last one came from Cosmo Cosma. Ugh.

"Shut it!" screamed Blonda, holding her hands out and smashing her rear into a chair. She then made a falsely gentle, smiling face and folded her wings against her back. "Anywho, you glitsy idiots, let Wanda speak, and then she can ask you directly if she wants you to ask her a question."

And although I was seriously grateful, I really didn't want to talk to any of them. I couldn't ignore their incessantly curious looks though. They were starving for information.

"Okay, uh, Cindy?" I asked hesitantly. Here goes.

Instantly, she said, "Was he rich? I mean--kind? And, well, handsome?" The girls giggled and tittered, and I noticed Cosmo rolling his eyes, though his head tilted curiously to the word "rich".

"Well," I looked down at my yogurt. At this pace, I'd never get my food done. "He was very... kind." I gave them all a pointed look, but decided to play into their childish games anyway. "And rich. His house--no, it was a castle, with dozens of halls and rooms. I never could have gotten through it on my own." They all leaned forward onto the table, rapt, as I took slow bites of my food, just to heighten the suspense. "And was he handsome?"

Although they would fight to be the richest family in Fairyworld, attractiveness is what they would kill for. Even amongst a race where everybody was beautiful to some high degree, there were levels of gorgeousness and levels of drab, basic looks as well.

"Absolutely and undeniably gorgeous."

It has a bad, rather inappropriate connotation, which is precisely why I used it. The crowd slapped hands to their mouths, aghast, but their eyes were aflame with wonder and adoration. Cosmo's mouth tightened. It made me want to laugh. You don't deny the perfection of my match and get away with it.

"Really?" breathed Maurice, just a quiet shadow in the corner. Everybody turned to her, confused. Why had she spoken? She almost never speaks. The last time I'd seen her was before I'd gotten ready for my meeting yesterday.

"Yes, Maurice," I responded just as quietly. "With tan skin, and this beauteous smile, and eyes the most heavenly violet..." She smiled a bit, her eyes looking at something distant that none of us could see. We all stared for a moment.

"Oh," she sang, "purple sounds lovely. My match's aren't quite so." 

The room instantaneously sparked. Every head that wasn't looking at her before turned sharply in her direction. Cosmo, clueless as he was, looked at her with an unreadable look. Before anyone could ruin the moment, I asked one of the simpler questions I could.

"And what--what color are his?" She looked up at me innocently.

"Red," she murmured. "Red as blood and fire."


	5. Her Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and the Miss try to uncover the truth about Maurice's match, Cosmo and Wanda get into an altercation, and Wanda is forced to ponder on her past, present, and future.

"I don't know what to do about it, Miss," I said fervently as the Miss eyed me with cautious suspicion. After a moment, she nodded, briefly, for who could deny the trust of a girl such as I?

"I don't know what we could do of it," she said brusquely--albeit worriedly. "If that really is her match, then we can't do a thing!"

I scoffed at her, "Nothing?" Then, more of a desperate whisper, "Nothing... Miss, she must be wrong, lying, something! Red eyes, Miss, she said red eyes!" Miss only pressed her hand to her mouth.

"Oh, I would never think that little wisp of a thing to lie..."

"But how would you know! She's hardly said four words since she met you." We looked at each other for a moment, the tension eating away at us. Finally, I continued, "We're going to have to get it out of her. We need to know."

And so we began our chase after the tiny Maurice.

Red as blood and fire was the eye color Maurice had spoken to me, and the kitchen had gone silent as death in response. Even Cosmo's jaw dropped. First, they all just sat there, frozen, and stared at the girl as she flipped lazily through a book with vibrant colors and whorls. Then Cindy passed it off. It's just a child's ramblings, she'd said. Kids are always blathering on. So the kitchen moved on, but I immediately put my things away and chased after the Miss. However, that still doesn't explain the fear within us.

Anti-fairies are very curious things. I, myself, had never seen one. They mostly keep to earth and inspire bad luck, but the high-ranking military fairies gather them when they can. They're kept in a lockdown facility at the base a few Cloud-levels up. I was on Cloud-level 2. Imports and shipping were below, the residences were with this level, the nobility above, and the military were on Cloud-level 4. Obviously, It was no wonder why I had never seen an anti-fairy.

Anti-fairies, supposedly, were the evil, darker versions of all of us fairies, but as most are contained on the 4th level, they haven't had enough space, time, or allowance to reproduce enough to equal our population. Nobody knows if they are really copies of ourselves. Nobody even knew how many were left. If there are copies, the original fairies that those devils are based off of are an unlucky few. Anti-fairies were, as they are supposedly identical, in the likeness of whoever they copied, however, their skin was blue as ice, and their eyes were either deep blue or red as...blood and fire.

* * * * *

"Maurice?" I asked softly. The girl lifted her eyes from her same colored book as she sat on her bed. Her bedroom, I had come to notice, was rather bare, all white and lavender, except for the random splashes of color from her books. Her ivory brush sat on the nightstand.

"Maurice," I said again, as she didn't respond, merely stared, "the Miss wanted to hear what you told me. At breakfast. The thing about your mate?" 

A small, fair smile grew on her dimpled face. "Oh. The eyes?" she whispered. I nodded. The Miss seemed to be growing even more impatient, clicking her tongue and tapping her foot. "Well, they were red. Deep, bloody red. Beautiful, if not so harsh." 

As I momentarily ignored the fact that that had been the longest statement I'd ever heard her make, I murmured, "And what else of him, can you say?"

For a bit, I thought she wouldn't answer. She just stared at the cover of her book once she'd closed it. I knew the Miss was just about to explode when Maurice finally looked up at us again, her rosy lips parted.

"Dastardly smile. A lot like that Cosma boy, I believe." She paused and placed her book on the shelf. "Actually, he looked much like that boy, in the face."

"And what was his face like... in color?" I sat on the bed next to her so I could hear her fluttery voice. She had a ghostly voice for a girl of fifteen.

She pondered this and said, "Hmm. I believe he had a rather pallid, cold face. Icy, deep features." 

My heart dropped into my stomach. The Miss, who had--miraculously--not said a word, finally dropped her chin and barked, "Blue? D'you mean his features were blue?" Maurice shied away from her sharp voice, starting wildly. 

"Don't shout at her," I hissed, whipping my head around. Maurice cowered behind me, though I was only a year-and-a-half her elder. Miss eyed me furiously. "Please."

After a stern, irritated silence, she nodded. I pulled, ever so gently, Maurice out from behind me and slowly attempted to coax the answer from her. I had always wondered why she never spoke at least a little bit more, but I was beginning to realize that people rarely asked anything of her, and when they did, they were questions that she would almost never need to open her mouth to answer.

"Yes," Maurice gasped eventually. "His skin was blue." She got up from the bed in a very soft, graceful manner and walked to the window with slumping shoulders. She didn't turn to us as she spoke. "I've heard... rumors. About the people with blue skin. I heard bad things."

She went on, turning to us now with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, "Am I matched to an Anti? Wanda? Please tell me I'm dreaming."

I looked at her for a very long time, and the Miss stared too, for neither of us knew what to say. Maurice only looked back at us with as worried a downset to her lips as she could most likely muster. I'd rarely seen her expression stray from wistful longing or pensive curiosity. Honestly, I didn't have a clue of what I was supposed to tell her; what would you tell anyone in a circumstance like this? With a glance to the Miss, I could tell that she'd never heard of a fairy matched like this either. Matched to an Anti-fairy. I couldn't think of a fate worse, neither a match to the poor or a or no match at all. 

"Wanda?" she said, her voice quivering.

"I--I can't say, Maurice," I responded quietly. "Surely, you've been dreaming."

But that was ridiculous. How could she dream of one man who was not her match, and not dream of another who was?

Maurice nodded and smiled small, partially reassured, and the Miss touched my shoulder as a symbol to leave. As Maurice turned back to the window solemnly, I could not help but really wonder about her: if the rumors are true, and she is destined to love an Anti-fairy, then who is the anti a copy of? What good fairy has has Maurice fallen in love with the counterpart of?

She said he looked like Cosmo Cosma. I wonder if that means anything.

* * * * *

I walked back to my room after that, my mind consumed with Anti-fairies and Maurice and Cosmo. Although, I really wouldn't like to be thinking about Cosmo-sparking-Cosma right now, when I obviously had more pressing problems on my mind. Like how Juandissimo was not with me right now. I just couldn't get his caring smile, his warm violet eyes staring down at me with utter devotion, out of my mind. This time, I shut the door before changing. I wonder if he's thinking about me. I'd like to believe so.

And how could I be so selfish as to be fawning over my match who isn't even here when Maurice could be in serious trouble. Probably is in trouble. Maurice is matched to an Anti, unless her mind has gotten the best of her, and we fairies don't damage easily. 

"How's the Anti's girl getting along, doll?" 

I didn't scream this time. I'd spoken to Cosmo once, but I already knew him well enough to tell that it was him behind me. It wasn't frightening enough to even move me from my seat on the bed, staring distantly out the window.

"You forgot to lock the door." The locks, you should know, put up a spell that keeps intruders out unless I let them in through the door. All the bedrooms have it.

"Are you really going to joke at a time like this?" I flipped around to glare at him. He was lounging, cat-like, across the bench in front of my writing desk. Quieter, I turned to the window again and said, "How'd you know anyhow?"

"I'm not stupid," he sneered jokingly. He waited a moment before saying softly, "I dropped a charm on you all. Dropping an eaves on your conversation."

"You listened in?" I asked placidly, my head tilted. 

"I was curious. I didn't want to ignore it like the others. Seein' a match with red eyes ain't something you just forget." I considered this with my lips pursed.

"You could've just came with us. Or asked me."

"You think the Miss would've trusted the new boy, Cosma?" He laughed, and I imagined his head was thrown back in amusement. "Or that you would've told me? You don't seem the betraying type."

I laughed softly. He was correct. I looked far past the window for a long while after that; Cosmo did whatever behind me. My stomach roiled because he was here, but I did my best to keep my thoughts straight.

Finally, I looked down at my linked hands and murmured, "I want to believe it's not true." I cleared my throat. "I mean, I've known the little bug for a long time. She's innocent. I--I just can't see her..."

"Loving something so terrible?" I nodded; he chuckled. 

"Don't laugh!" 

I jumped off the bed and flicked my wand at him out of impulse, which was really out of character for me. Using magic for violence, revenge, or play can only lead to bad things. Lesson number two. But, immediately, a metallic band fastened over Cosmo's mouth. His eyebrows shot way up into his sweeping hairline. In a second he had his own wand whipped out of his boot and swung it at me indignantly. I guess he didn't see that coming.

There was the rushing of wind in my ears as I spun backwards across my room, slamming into the wall, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to irritate. The next thing I saw was the dresses streaming out of my closet. They were flying after me. As my back clashed with the wall, my dresses wound tightly around my wrists and strapped me to the hooks holding the drapes on the windows. Cosmo spun his wand around his own face and peeled the band off, scowling.

"Sparks, Wanda, are you crazy?" he growled. Caught in the moment, I cocked a brow and nodded my head to my right hand. I hadn't dropped my wand.

"No." I slashed the wand down and slit the nearest dress. "Just glitsin' angry."

"Wait--"

The dresses flew off me with a crash, hitting my shelves quick. I cast one scarlet spell at him that hit square in his chest. Spinning, he soared back into the door--just as it was opening, and he flew out into the hall, past the person there, and into the wall opposite me. 

"What in the skies are you DOING?!" the Miss screamed. Cosmo righted himself in a flash, glowering at me once, then nearly cowering beneath the eyes of the Miss.

"I, uh--" he started.

"We were..." I tried, wiping the dew off my brow. We were both still breathing heavy, our chests heaving.

"'We were?' 'Uh...?'" the Miss snapped. "You could've brought the bloody house down!" She snapped her fingers and both of our wands were ripped from our hands. "Using magic! You've known each other since this morning, you sparking imbeciles!"

"Last night," Cosmo mumbled. The Miss raised her brow as her face turned bright red, and Cosmo rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

"What?" Cosmo didn't say anything. I heard the shuffling of feet and knew that kids were gathering. "Nevermind, I don't even want to know! What were you even fighting about you little toads!"

"It was my fault," I whispered. "He said something about--about what we'd spoken of earlier, and I was... angry. So we fought."

The Miss seemed at a loss for words at this point, which was more shocking than anything else. She looked at me with her mouth hanging open, her long arms hanging limply down by her sides. What we could expect of the rumored Cosmo Cosma was worrysome, but what we should expect of Wanda Fairywinkle was sure: she was the responsible one, the good one, the trustworthy one.

"You?" she hissed. I nodded solemnly, looking down at the floor. "I expected better of you, Wanda. Now, the rest of you stay in your rooms till supper or get out of the smoking house!" And she flashed away, presumably to her room.

I stood there silently, my eyes wide, as the children in the hallway groaned at us for getting them all to their rooms. They began to dissipate, but I noticed one particular thing before I waved my hand and threw the door shut. Cosmo was looking at me with hooded eyes, and I'm not sure if he flashed away the moment the door had shut or if he just stood outside for a little while longer, watching the door. 

I think I'll go for a walk. Maybe I'll find something better outside.

* * * * *

I'd like to take this short break to explain to you my situation. I could be normal and just let it reveal itself in time, but I really don't care enough. Orphan, matched, and a godparent. Something had to have gone wrong in my life. And it's time that wrong came to light.

I was once part of a small, secluded, happy family. Me and my sister and my big, laughing father and my sweet, sensitive mother. We were happy, and Fairyworld was happy, and life was good. Period.

But then came the Great War.

It was a time that lasted, for us, several decades, and for you, centuries. It was a time when all the races went to war against each other. The pixies and the Anti-fairies fought on one side, and the shapeshifters fought on ours (shapeshifters being distant, other-planet creatures and distant friends of ours). Some still speculate that the war never really ended, and that we still fight for that reason. 

My father was one of the fairies called out in the aftermath of the war. He was recon. His job, along with ten others, was to intercept a net of captured fairies and take them back to base. I'm surprised nobody realized that it was a trap. Anti-faires rushed them from all sides. The lone survivor said that everyone was slaughtered in three seconds flat. They didn't have a chance. After that, our family didn't have much left. Mother made some money godparenting, but it was hardly enough. I don't blame Blonda for wanting a rich lifestyle. See, Daddy had worked at the Fairyworld 'dump', where all the bad wishes that had been intercepted by fairy guards were taken. It was Daddy's job to keep them under control, banish them, or kill them. He was in charge because he had the strongest magic of his sort: Dark Magic. It's dangerous, and only a few fairies are born with it. The kids call it "stinky magic". But that was my dad, and without his income from the dump, which was large seeing as how only a few fairies could keep the job, we didn't have much.

Then, my mother was called in to take care of a godkid during your Italian Renaissance. I have no clue what your customs are today, but back then, they didn't take well to the unnatural. The paranormal, supernatural, magical. One of the godkid's parents walked in on my mother granting the kid a wish, and my mom couldn't swipe her memory before two more people were there. It was a guard. I guess the child was rich. He shot my mother--which shouldn't have killed her--but then he hit her with the end of his gun, which was made of iron. Only two things can hurt or diminish a fairy's powers: iron and butterfly nets. No one knows why. After that, the guard shot once more, straight between the eyes. One of the Mortaility Guards on Cloud Level 4 sensed her demise (another 'special' fairy that can sense when another fairy dies), swooped in, wiped their memories in a blink, and disappeared with my mother. He made sure the child never remembered a thing about magic, and everything was alright.

Except, of course, the two little girls left behind.

We were soon moved to the orphanage, where we met the Miss, and nobody ever stopped to wonder if we were okay. Because here, in the orphanage, everybody had problems. Everyone was left alone. There was no one left to wonder about, no backstories, nothing. Nobody felt sympathy. Nobody felt bad for one another. That was just how it was. 

But then Cosmo got here. And now I think I get what feeling pity really is. How would you feel if every person in the world that loved you let you go or died? Supposedly, Cosmo's mother is alive and kicking somewhere on Level 3, but after all his rebellion, kicked him out and promised to take him in once he got his life together. How could you do that, without a father, without a match, and then just leave him with nothing? I couldn't help but empathize.

He's still annoying, though.

So, as I walk down the trails of lower Fairyworld, watching people rush by me with their feet in the air or their horseless carriages flying, seeing the 'dump' and gasping for breath, seeing the signs for the first Godparent Classes next month, I'm really starting to remember things that I'd rather forget. 

I sigh and look down at my feet and keep walking. The sun is really warm. The day is bright. People are happy and giggling. It's matching season, where most of the matches meet each other for the first time, so the dress and suit shops were clogged with chattering girls and boys. Most of them were paired with the fairies on their Level. A couple looked at me. Not that many get paired with the nobility, and no one with the Magnificos. Maybe they envy me. I hope not. I hope they're happy.

Before all this, I really didn't want to get matched. I would think of Juandissimo and love him a little more, but then I would look up at my mother and she would look down at me, and I would say, "Why can't we love who we want?" 

She would laugh because I was just a silly little thing and reply, "Well, don't you want to love Juandissimo? Don't you love him already?"

I'd laugh shrilly and shrug and blush because Blonda and I were so little, so young, and this strange emotion called 'love' made us embarrassed. It sort of runs Fairyworld now, money and love and power. Now, so many years later, I can't imagine anything better than loving Juandissimo. And I only met him yesterday. But I still love him.


	6. The Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Maurice receive stress-inducing invitations.

When I arrived back at the house, not even bothering to poof up to my room, all was silent. Right now, it was just nice to feel something solid. The floor beneath my feet; the smooth, cold wall under my fingertips; the tug of the carpet on the hem of my cloak as I drifted up the stairs like a phantom. I breezed past the closed doors, and I heard eerie, quiet whispers follow, almost as if they knew I was there. It seems that nobody had really gotten over our little spat yet.

I drifted into my room. As I looked around the walls, shelves, drawers, boxes and books, I felt like I didn't really know whose they were. This wasn't my room. These weren't my clothes. This wasn't the jewelry I'd strapped to my limbs, let tickle my skin as I danced around and pretended I was a princess. Everything was forgotten.

What was I doing?

I had never gotten into a fight, at least not one of those proportions. Not even close. The second he had laughed at Maurice... I had jumped on him so quickly... It wasn't like me. And teasing him earlier, like I had something to prove! I can understand being excited or happy to finally meet your match, but I had fawned, gloated and mocked. It was something I never would have dreamed of doing before--before yesterday.

I never wanted to be matched. Five years ago, I cringed at the thought. But I moved on. It was necessary. That was my duty, and I was going to do it. And it wasn't like I disliked Juandissimo: I loved him, positively and whole-heartedly. I just wondered what it was to be left alone simply because your match died. Nobody could ever love you like that. You were just... left behind. All the while, there are those of us who are celebrating our marraiges and getting jobs and moving on and being happy. It didn't seem fair. With all my mind (for all my heart was telling me to do was to fall in love and ignore the rest), I told myself that I would fight. That I would enjoy my freedom while I could, before I was wrangled in and forced to sit beside Juandissimo and look pretty. I couldn't help it; while everybody was looking forward to that one day when they would meet their match, I didn't know if I even wanted to.

Love? Or freedom?

Freedom to love. That has a nice ring to it.

But I'm afraid that's not the way things work around here. And why am I complaining, now all of a sudden? I was happy. I was. I had the match of the century, my sister was going to be rich and content, and things were going to work out perfectly. Except for Maurice and Cosmo, my mind hissed at me. Maurice was falling in love with an Anti. She was doomed. And Cosmo...he was doomed to a life alone. I didn't know which was worse. 

Two sharp raps on the door startled me, abruptly cutting off my train of thought.

"Wanda, open your door!" scream-whispered my sister from outside. For a second, I thought that maybe I should just leave the door locked so she couldn't get in. I could... "Wanda!"

Or she could alert the whole house to her presence with her big, fat mouth.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," I snapped and flicked my hand at the door. It flew open but stopped before crashing into the wall. Blonda stomped in as quietly as she could remember to, obviously disgruntled and indignant.

"Were you about to ignore me?" she needled, crossing her arms furiously. The door swung shut behind her. Her blue eyes held mine, but I was more than immune to her intimidation.

I snickered. "How could I ignore you when you're that loud?" 

"Little bug!"

She smacked down on my bed, flat on her back, her arms flung out to the sides. Her crown nearly tumbled off her head, but she caught it at the last second. It was spiky yet graceful, the brightest gold that I could imagine, with sapphires elegantly twining with mother-of-pearl accents along the edges of it. It was beautiful, but neither of us had ever envied the other for their crown. Everybody was born into their own; everybody loved their own.

"Alright, I'll bite," I sighed, sitting down next to her and reading her very blatant, moping attitude. "What's wrong?"

"I have a dilemma. A very serious dilemma." I raised a brow at her. She rolled her eyes as if she was irritated that I hadn't just guessed what her problem was. "I hate blood."

"What."

"I. Hate. Blood--"

"No, I heard you, Numbwings! But how is that a dilemma?" She was really interrupting me for this (granted, I was doing nothing, but... it still annoyed me).

Her hand snapped across my upper arm and left it with a sting. I recoiled, grasping the pink skin that she swiped with her claws but luckily hadn't punctured. Breathing sharply, I shoved at her, and she protested like she hadn't done anything.

"I'm matched to a doctor," she stated, enunciating everything very clearly and loudly. The pieces clicked into place.

"Ooohh..." I shrugged. "Well, it's not like you're going to have to be around the blood. Why are you worried about that?" She groaned and rolled over so that I couldn't see her face. Her golden blond hair fanned out around my blanket.  
"I just--I don't know. I love Rip, but..." she mumbled, her voice muffled and faint. It was weak. Nothing like the haughty snarl I was used to.

"You don't like his... lifestyle?"

"Yes!" she cried, rocketing out of my bed on her wings. After her outburst, she quickly composed herself and sat back down next to me, crossing her legs. "There's just something about doctors that I find incredibly unattractive. But when I look at Rip--I--I don't know! It just works! It's like I think he's wonderful when I look at him, but when I turn away, I feel this little bit of doubt and remember how I don't even like doctors." She paused for a moment. "Rip is different, I guess. But what am I saying? I'm happy! I love Rip! "

"I think I know what you're saying," I murmured. 

"You do?" she whined, looking incredibly relieved. "Because I don't."

"You love Rip because he's your match." I smiled. "You love your match. It's like meeting your true love before you actually meet him. And since you already have met him, the bond is even stronger. Maybe you don't like other doctors, but you'll love it on Rip Studwell because you love him. It's like a--a sacrifice. One you don't even know you're making."

Blonda stared at me for a minute as I laid back on the bed, grinning casually. It was more or less the same speech they used to give us in school when we would ask similar questions. They just laughed. We didn't mind if there were qualities we would normally find unattractive on our match: we unknowingly accepted that quality and learned to adore it as well. That's just how things went around here. After a bit, Blonda fell over on her side, facing me. Her smile matched mine; she sort of looked like me. I think, even though we fight almost every day, we still understood each other. We were sisters. It was nice to know that Blonda still came to me for advice. She was somewhat older, but she occasionally said that I had matured quicker than everybody else. I was the older sister to her, sometimes.

"Thank you," she said quietly. I nodded, closing my eyes. I was worn out.

"Mmm."

I felt the bed lift as she got up, heard the door shift as she opened it, and the click of the lock as she walked out. For a while, I just laid there.

I was nearly asleep when there was a shrill wail of excitement downstairs. Shooting up, I flashed downstairs, my cloak still hanging limply around my shoulders. The Miss and some of the other girls and boys were gathered around the door: the invitations were here. Since it was matching season, the mail would go around with fancy showers of glitter or shows, and the really wealthy families would send footmen to deliver them formally and politely and beautifully.

The Miss was holding a small stack of letters, but her eyes were locked on the young-ish, gorgeous footman standing in the doorway with a smile. His eyes were searching the crowd for one face. On his pressed, cleaned and refined uniform, a black M was sewn over his chest. Magnifico. The blue-eyed, honey-haired blonde's eyes landed on me and he smiled, flashing his brilliantly white teeth and melon lips.

"Wanda Fairywinkle!" he cried, extending his hand. Between his fingers, an elegant, thick white envelope flashed its golden seal in the light. "Your invitation to the 3rd Level Matches Ball."

All the rest of the kids, furiously scanning and flipping through their letters to the 2nd Level Matches Ball, stopped, turned and gaped at me. I felt myself blush as I quickly snatched the letter away from the footman. He bowed, flashing me a magnificent smile, and disappeared.

"3rd Level Ball?" breathed Gladys Sinclair. A gaudy pink letter was clenched in her hand.

"Well, duh," snapped Cindy. "She's matched to Juandissimo. He's 3rd Cloudlevel material."

"Right..." said Georgia, watching my fingers clumsily tear open the envelope and yank the letter out from inside. As soon as I opened it, faint music began to drift from inside. It was all gold and rose and lavender. 

Dearest Wanda,  
I sincerely ask you to accompany me to the 3rd Cloudlevel Matches' Ball two days from now. A carriage will arrive at your abode at six o'clock precisely to pick you up. I can't wait to see you there.  
Yours truly, Juandissimo F. Magnifico

It was short and sweet and to the point, but I pressed it to my chest and smiled softly to myself. After a moment, I realized that every body was still looking at me, including the Miss.

"You have your own letters!" I said defensively and turned to flash to my room again, intent on either buying a dress or making one, when there was one last knock at the door. The Miss whipped it open, but the silly grin dropped off her face the second the door swung open.

It was a ghost of sorts, the faint outline of a man, but translucent, pearly and smoky. I could just make out the shape of his eyes and mouth. He--it--wasn't looking at any of us. Its sculpted lips opened up and an eerie voice drifted out.

"Maurice?" it asked, his words cracking. Nobody said anything, and it just looked around at us, waiting. Patient and calm and ominous. "Maurice Wingshine? I have an invitation for her."

"Really?" said a small voice, directly behind me. I jumped and squeaked. When I looked down, Maurice was standing right next me, gawking wonderously at the misty creature. It nodded at her and she ran forward.

On instinct, the Miss snapped, "Who's it from?" The figure turned to her placidly.

"Well, my boss," he said vaguely. 

Cosmo sauntered into the room, observing the scene with no small amount of curiosity but surprisingly no worry. "And who's your boss, boy?" he asked, leaning up against the wall. The figure turned to him sharply and a sneer twisted his previously stony expression.

"I'm no boy, Cosmo Cosma," he bit, "and you should show me some respect. It's your other that sent me here, after all."

And if the crowd before hadn't been struck silent by fear before, they certainly were now. Every face turned to Cosmo, their jaws hanging. We had all but forgotten the 3rd Level Ball. Cosmo, on the other hand, swallowed and licked his lips, the first sign of nervousness I'd seen since he arrived. Not even he could come up with words. Cosmo's other. What was going after Maurice?

So I blurted, "Other what, exactly?" The spirit turned to me, obviously relieved by not having to look at such a thing as Cosmo anymore.

"His other half." I stared at him, not comprehending. My mind was like a half-broken clock, its gears and cogs shifting and dragging themselves along. He--it?--breathed shortly and explained, "His anti-fairy. He's sent his request for Maurice Wingshine."

His last words were cut off by a wail of glee from Maurice who jolted forward and grabbed the letter from him, smiling brighter than I'd ever seen on her before. It wasn't dreamy or distant; it was absolutely overjoyed.

"He's finally contacted me!" she screamed, tearing the letter open. Her eyes scanned the dark blue paper. "Oh, this is glorious! He wants to meet!"

"Meet?" I choked. Maurice looked at me, saying more, expressing more than she ever had in just the past two minutes.

"Yes." She grinned toothily. "I've missed his presence so, but now Anti-Cosmo wants to meet. Tomorrow."

Not a sound.

Not even a breath.

Tomorrow.


End file.
